Please be gentle
by Freak Perfume
Summary: Written for st xi kink quite a while ago. Chekov, Pavel Andreievich is not as naive as he seems. Five times he got away with it and the one time he didn't. This here? This is smut, guys.


(this is by my BFFF sh4rds)

So, let's first give my excuse for this.

**Prompt**: "Young Chekov is not as naive as he seems. He successfully persuades 5 crew members to educate him "in the vays ov luv", and each is charmingly and discretely convinced they are the first and only star in Chekov's constellation. Only one crew member is not taken in, and watches the boy's campaign of conquest with growing amusement and admiration. How will they chose to reveal the truth of their observations - and what are the results?"

Yeaaah. Then this happened.

But, guys. Guys, let me _please_ apologise for the accent. I couldn't help myself, it was like, I don't know, biological imperative or something. Blame it on my relatives because _they have that damned accent_. I hope it doesn't injure anyone too badly.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

**Please Be Gentle**

Everyone on the ship knows the captain is easy. Scratch that, let's start over. _Everyone _knows the captain is easy. He doesn't hide it—and let us be honest, why should he? If James T. Kirk ever decided to publish a book on human-alien sexual practices he would probably be able to retire from the first month's revenue.

However, it's one of the reasons why Pavel decided he wouldn't approach the captain under any circumstances. It is mainly because the captain is easy and likes to gloat—there would be no conceivable way the captain wouldn't beam like a ray of sunshine at having deflowered his ensign—but there is also the fact that he is the _captain_, which means that on the Enterprise he may as well be _God_. So Pavel stays out of the captain's way and turns instead to the familiar embrace of his colleague and friend.

He kisses him clumsily one evening, after their shared shift. They found themselves alone in the turbolift and it was an opportunity that was far too good to pass up. The kiss is over soon, Pavel sort of missed and ended up kissing the corner of Sulu's mouth and a bit of cheek, but it is unmistakably not a kiss shared by friends and colleagues. He blushes and ducks his head a little, peeking up through his eyelashes at Sulu's startled face.

"I, I don't want to epologise," he says, and there's a little catch in his voice but he sounds determined.

It doesn't take long at all before Sulu presses him up against the wall and his kiss is far less clumsy and a lot more wet. Pavel moans softly, his arms hang down his sides and his hands twitch a little, like he can't make up his mind if he should touch or not. Sulu has no such difficulties, his hands kneed and roam unreservedly and Pavel thinks that that's more than a little all right.

"I want, plis, show me," he says into Sulu's shirt and the other answers with a chant that goes '_yes yes yes yes_', and stops the lift.

Sulu helps him out of his clothes and he tries to return the favour but his hands are shaky and he makes a bit of a mess of it which makes them both chuckle, but it's all right, they have time. He has a very soft mouth, he knows this because Sulu tells him so before he sucks on his lip, and again after. He touches then, gently and mostly on Sulu's arms and shoulders until Sulu tells him it's all right to explore.

"You can touch anywhere. I want you to," he tells him and it's nice. Sulu's skin is soft except for where he finds scars, but those are interesting to feel as well so he runs his fingers along them and Sulu moans. His fingers find something hard in their journey which makes Sulu close his eyes and groan so at first, he pulls away from it. He tries again and Sulu smiles at him. It's a reassuring sort of smile and Pavel smiles back.

"Is zis OK?" he asks, wrapping his fingers around it and stroking.

"Fuck, more than OK," Sulu rasps and puts his hands on the wall to support himself. And it is OK, it's not stellar but it feels good and Sulu tells him so, often. He makes him stop and drops to his knees, giving Pavel a wink and then licking his cock.

Pavel throws his head back, which is a mistake as there is a wall there, and curses in his mother tongue, making Sulu laugh around his cock. When he is about to come he fists his hands in Sulu's hair, which is taken as encouragement, and after he comes he shares his most blissful expression, which is taken as love.

"Plis," he pants, petting Sulu's hair. "More, I, plis."

He blushes then, turning his head away a little but not enough to take his eyes off Sulu, whose face broadcasts sheer joy. He stands up and kisses Pavel, this kiss is urgent and needy and Pavel attempts to respond in kind.

"Turn around," Sulu whispers in his ear and he complies, pressing himself up against the wall and sticking out his ass.

"Plis, be gentle," he whimpers, because that is what one does in such a situation. "It is my first time."

Sulu kisses his neck and mumbles reassurances, of course, nothing to worry about, and_ yes yes yes yes_. There is a little kink in the plan but they use spit, which is not the best lubricant but works well enough if one's careful and Sulu is certainly that and more besides. He takes his times with his fingers and Pavel mewls and arches his back, moving against those fingers and breathing _Hikaru, oh, Hikaru_.

When the fingers are taken away and he feels something hot press against his cheeks, Pavel quivers. He turns his head and casts a worried glance over his shoulder at Sulu who lifts a hand to stroke his hair.

"I'll be careful," he says and Pavel nods, but doesn't look away. Sulu is careful and very, very slow. He keeps his word but Pavel can tell it's difficult by his expression—his eyes are shut tight and he's biting his lip so hard it might bruise. When the head's all the way in Pavel does turn away but only to rest his forehead against the wall and moan a little. When Sulu begins to move he moans a lot. When Sulu reaches around to squeeze his cock he nearly screams.

"Plis, harder," he says. They are in a turbolift and as much as he'd like to, they don't have all the time in the world. It's a magic word—Sulu obeys and speeds up his thrusts in search of the right balance to make it hard enough but not painful, fast enough but not mindless rutting. This time it's Pavel who takes up the chant and the space fills with the sound of '_yes yes yes yes_', ending in a '_Bozhe moy_' from Pavel and a grunt from Sulu. They stay pressed together for a little while, panting, before Sulu says what Pavel couldn't figure out how to say.

"We really should take this somewhere else. I want to show you how it could be like. How it should be like."

Pavel smiles. "Sank you, yes," he says and they get dressed quickly, starting up the lift again but changing the destination.

On their way to Sulu's quarters they pass by someone who possibly says something which they don't hear. This doesn't matter as they don't notice much of anything outside themselves.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

He has been exercising a lot, for various reasons, and it has made him a bit sore. He could already feel it a little in his arms, and just a twinge in his shoulders as well, so he decides to take a long shower right there at the gym instead of in his quarters. Pavel would never presume to think he knows better than scores of engineers and ship architects, but the showers in personnel quarters leave a lot to be desired, he feels. For whatever reason this is not the case with the exercise facility 's showers—the pressure is far more pleasurable, as is the temperature. It might have had something to do with the help of muscle relaxation from proper showers, but that doesn't excuse the low standards of their personal bathing facilities to the point that their only benefit is privacy.

It so happens that right at that moment the showers were already in use, but they are all men and it doesn't really matter anyway. He still blushes a bit and inclines his head to Commander Spock before stepping into the showers and turning on one of the sprays.

Commander Spock is a worthwhile curiosity to one interested in everything (like Pavel). He is, after all, a one of a kind specimen of exemplary genetic engineering. Pavel sometimes wonders if the commander's aesthetic appeal is something his parents had aimed for specifically before he reminds himself that the commander's father is Vulcan and doesn't hold with those kind of things. Then again, Pavel also knows his mother was human and wouldn't it have been very difficult for her not to pick and choose her favourite features from both herself and her husband to pass on to her son? A mother always wants the best for her child, so it is a point worth considering.

Pavel soaps up, massaging his arms, and if he steals a glance or two at the commander, well, what could it hurt. Except that when he does it again he's met with a raised eyebrow and an inquisitive look. He might have turned crimson but who would notice with all that hot water colouring his skin in the first place. He stutters an apology and looks away, only to glance back at the commander who is still looking at him.

"Ensign, might I inquire if the cause of your physical response is in any way connected to my presence?" the commander asks in that perpetually level tone that shouldn't be anything but clinical, but _is_.

Pavel doesn't look down, he is pretty certain he knows what Spock is referring to. He is more than pretty certain, he has felt the twitch his erection performed at the sound of Spock's voice.

"I am sorry, Commander, I kennot help it." He takes a deep breath. "I do not sink properly wen you are around sir. It is a stupid crush, sir, I am sorry. I will try to ignore it," he says quickly, avoiding Spock's eyes.

"This crush," Spock begins, sounding a touch puzzled at the word, like he is unsure what it actually means, "is it affecting your ability to perform your duties? You mention it is impairing your cognitive process."

The commander looks a bit uncertain at having to hold this conversation in a shower. It doesn't show much but Pavel notices and takes his cue from that.

He doesn't say anything, he just stares at Spock with wide eyes and his lips apart. His tongue sneaks out to lick some water,—which is just replaced with new drops but it serves its purpose. Spock blinks at him, then turns his head sideways looking deep in thought.

"I am not entirely familiar with the protocol," he says finally.

Pavel ducks his head. "I will deal wis it, sir, I promise."

"Will your course of action suffice in defeating this problem, ensign?" Spock asks, and yes, there it is. Pavel bites his lip, choosing again not to answer. "I see. Perhaps I can be of service, ensign Chekov."

Of course Commander Spock can't have him at anything but optimal performance levels. It's simply in his nature as both a Vulcan as well as Starfleet commanding officer. He hadn't expected it to be this easy but he's certainly not one to refuse such a wonderful turn of events. He smiles a blinding smile at the commander. "Yes, sir."

Pavel is not sure what to expect but he has a few ideas. Commander Spock locking the showers down with the authorisation code only the captain and CMO can override however, is not one of them. Spock walks over to him with no sign of hesitation but neither is there sign of arousal yet. Pavel isn't worried, he has enough for the both of them.

Spock doesn't ask him for permission before he touches him and when he does, the touches are purposeful. He doesn't scratch or massage or pet, Spock drags his fingers over skin like he is following a line on a map, pausing to press at points which make no sense to Pavel's mind but plenty of sense to his body.

Pavel is the one who initiates a kiss this time. He rather thinks it just hadn't seemed necessary to the commander, but he is not refused. No, he is rather conquered in seconds. Commander Spock may not have thought of kissing but he is an expert at it none the less.

He takes the matter of Spock's arousal into his own hands. He may not know all the pressure points a Vulcan knows but he is eager and his hands and mouth have the desired effect.

Vulcan physiology, he finds, is not very different than the human variant. There are some differences in colour, which he had already expected, and minute ribbing which he hadn't (and would never have noticed without touching). Spock is also far less cool than he'd anticipated, which is probably because of the showers. He wants to know for sure.

He casts a reverent look at Spock.

"Sir, I would like to, sat is," he takes a breath and exhales. "I would like to try oral sex, sir. Wis your permission."

"Granted," Spock says but Pavel imagines that means 'yes please' in Vulcan. He sinks to his knees and looks up at Spock.

"I, you will haf to tell me if I do it wrong. I have never done sis before," he says and somewhat timidly takes the hard length partway into his mouth. He thinks he hears a sharp intake of breath but the showers are still running so he's not entirely sure. He experimentally tries sucking and places his hand on Spock's hip for balance. A warm hand is placed on his head and there is a little pressure. He takes that as instruction and takes in more of the length. He understands now how Spock plans to handle it and pays attention to the hand and what it is telling him.

"I would appreciate the use of your hand, ensign," Spock tells him and he obeys, using one hand to meet his mouth half way and the other to cup the Vulcan's balls. It's very interesting, but he resists the urge to count the ribs in favour of concentrating on the feeling. He squeezes and shoots a questioning look at Spock, who nods in affirmation so he does it again.

"Well done," Spock says and his voice is not exactly as level any more. Pavel is pleased with this and thinks it is time to move on. He takes his mouth off Spock's erection but keeps stroking it.

"Plis, sir, take me," he says, looking hopeful. "I have been sinking about it, I kennot stop sinking about it." He lets go of the cock and bites his finger. "I want my first time to be wis you, sir," he says bashfully.

"Very well," Spock says. "It could be an efficient remedy to your problem."

Pavel smiles again, a blinding smile, and nuzzles Spock's leg. "Yes, sir."

"You may call me Spock," he says, sinking to his knees. "I believe you should turn around."

Pavel nods. He gets on his hands and knees. "A moment," Spock tells him and he hears the click of a bottle opening. When Spock runs his fingers along Pavel's crack they are slick and Pavel momentarily wonders what it is Spock found to use. He smiles and turns back to look at the commander.

"Plis, be gentle. It is my first time."

"Affirmative, ensign. I will endeavour to do so."

Pavel has to admit he is indeed gentle but that it does nothing to temper his intensity, for which he is grateful. He had rather looked forward to it.

On his way back to the bridge he has the distinct impression he is being watched, but he tries to ignore it and gets in the turbolift with the commander. They don't say anything but they are standing closer together than they usually did.

He gets out of the turbolift and walks to his station and smiles back at Sulu who had turned to greet him. Sulu winks at him and he ducks his head, peeking at him through his lashes.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

He watches the boy closely these days. He's not sure when exactly he began watching him but he started doing it more carefully after he noticed something off about him. It was nothing specific, a look here, a gesture there. Something had shifted and he, being so very awesome, had noticed. It hadn't taken him long to see it centred around Ensign Chekov.

It was puzzling at first—why Ensign Chekov? He's a bright-eyed ensign with a bubbly personality, nothing out of the ordinary. Sure, he's the genius kid with the accent—and for a while he'd feared that would turn the poor kid into the ship's mascot, but so far the crew had managed to show some unexpected maturity—but he's still a kid.

Then he began to pay attention, or should he say sneak around? No, no—_investigate_, that's the proper word. It hadn't been difficult, the ensign was always otherwise occupied and didn't notice him. Neither did his companions, he thought with a snicker.

In the beginning he'd assumed the boy was just growing up, metaphorically speaking, and had left it that. A Starship romance was hardly cause for concern and if he had to say anything about it he would admit it was sort of cute. He'd even felt a bit guilty at having intruded actually, but he was captain of this ship and had certain responsibilities. There was no guarantee that 'something up' meant 'teen romance' instead of 'alien brain controlling disease for which both Spock and Bones will have my hide for not seeing'.

He didn't feel so guilty after he caught on. He's not a stupid man and it's a game he knows, one he's even played with varying degrees of success for most of his life. Though not as masterfully as the ensign, no—and doesn't it just suck that he's been out-played by a seventeen year old, eugh.

His manoeuvre with the Lieutenant had been solid. His move against Spock? That was _poetry_. He chuckles into his coffee. Spock. Of all people.

"Are you even listening?" snaps the irritated voice to his left and he nods.

"Of course I am," he assures her. He's a good liar and she's a smart woman. They both know it's a lie and they both know there would be no point arguing about it. She simply continues with what she has to say while he observes Ensign Chekov some more, discreetly. It's not a hard thing to do in a mess hall, there are plenty distractions which, he notices, is something Chekov is using to his advantage as well.

Chekov is talking to a boy wearing ops red he can't quite recall the name of. He's pretty, in a plain sort of way—nothing extraordinary, but pretty. There's already a possessive glint in his eyes and it would only be a matter of time before this one is reeled in as well. He has to hand it to the ensign, it's all very neat. He has the perfect face for the innocent air he projects, it's really very believable unless you know better.

He knows better, to him it's obvious the boy is being steered in exactly the direction Chekov wants him to go. When Chekov leaves the mess and the boy follows only moments later, he smiles. He doesn't have to follow them to know what will happen. He can practically see it as if he were there.

From what he saw, he expects the boy will make the first move, probably something like a confession, or invitation. If he is bold, maybe a kiss. Chekov will be all wide-eyed innocence and trepidation but won't say no. He would smile and awkwardly accept the proposition, effectively giving the boy the green light to ravish him while he sits back and enjoys the attention.

The boy would likely coax him, throwing in everything to seduce the seducer, but to the boy it would seem like a conquest. He smiles to himself, yes, boys like that. They like feeling in control and if it's a virgin? That's something akin to Christmas and a birthday all in one, the gift of writing the first page in someone's book of sexual experiences.

"You are spacing out on me again," his companion warns him.

"Sorry, do go on," he says absently and tries to make a show of listening but all he's thinking of are lazy touches on naked skin, whispered reassurances and promises, declarations of love and lust. The boy would be the first to reach for the zipper. Yes, likely Chekov would stammer and the boy would pet his crotch through the cloth and encourage him while wondering how he could be so lucky all the while.

He hopes for their sake they're not somewhere they could be disturbed so that they can take their time and properly enjoy it. From the looks of him he can tell that boy isn't very experienced, and a quick fuck would hardly be satisfying from someone who doesn't know exactly what he's doing. On that note, he would probably give Chekov a handjob because that's something every man knows how to do. He would feel more secure that way, and Chekov would moan for him, boosting his confidence and his will to perform better.

He scrunches up his nose. If that boy is not the type to slobber all over someone, he would hand in his rank. He looked like a wet kisser, like someone who likes to lick necks and bite nipples. Once he starts sucking cock the boy will likely be a force in his own right. That, however, was neither here nor there. He wonders if the boy would lick Chekov's come from his fingers, if he would encourage Chekov to try some himself. Maybe, who knows.

He's young, so he likely carries lube around. That would prompt him to suggest proper fucking, wouldn't it? It would, boys were always eager for proper fucking. Would Chekov take him up on it right away, or would he pretend to be reluctant? He thinks a little and decides reluctant is most likely. Yes, Chekov would push the boy to persuade him, making him want it even more. When he eventually did give in, Chekov would say the words that were almost like a magic spell.

"Plis, be gentle."

He has heard him say it several times, a few of those times Chekov wasn't even anywhere near him. If those words are a spell, they had an effect on everyone who heard them. Oh, it is indeed masterful. He wonders how the ensign manages to keep the routine running so smoothly. There is not a single sign it's falling apart yet. He's juggling two lovers, and now he would add a third. It boggled the mind to think of the effort involved in keeping the machine operational without a single kink.

On his way to the bridge he passes by Chekov. The ensign is speaking with Commander Spock. Their heads are close together—a little too close if you look twice but hardly anyone would think to do so. He can hear them well enough to know the conversation isn't strained but not well enough to make out the words. Even Spock is speaking softly, dare he say fondly? Impressive, to say the least.

A while later when Chekov assumes his place on the bridge he's slid into yet another skin and shares looks with Lieutenant Sulu. Those looks are different from the looks he shared with the boy earlier and different again from the looks he shared with the commander.

He sits back with a smile on his face and wonders where this will lead when all is said and done—and there's quite a lot to say and do. For the moment however, they have a galaxy to explore.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

He's sharing a drink with Scotty in engineering. There's no one there but them and the Enterprise, humming in the background. They'd started out conversing about astral navigation and transporter beams—a question Scotty had asked about adjustments to some calculations he'd made had quickly turned in to a long discussion. They'd relocated to engineering when Scotty professed he was parched and would he mind if he got a drink? Pavel hadn't minded, he had even mentioned he wouldn't mind one himself.

The discussion had quickly turned away from technical issues to more frivolous things, and eventually Pavel found himself talking to Scotty about sex. He doesn't mind this, it was his own idea after all. Of course Scotty had started it, but Pavel had prompted the subject.

"It really is something," Scotty tells him, "having such an effect on another person. Making someone moan your name like you're the second coming. It's powerful, that is."

Pavel sighs—it's a wistful kind of sigh—and takes a sip of his beer. "I wouldn't know," he admits.

Scotty raises both brows. "Really? Ooh, right, I see. How old were you again?" he asks, giving Pavel a quick once-over.

"Seventeen," Pavel says. He is staring into the distance, cradling his drink. He sees Scotty's eyes focus on his drink before settling on his face with a little panic in his expression. "Almost eighteen," he adds, trying to reassure the man. It works, kind of. The man relaxes somewhat, but it's a little different than before.

"Ever been kissed?" Scotty asks him finally, probably trying to get his mind off things like giving alcohol to a minor and what that could mean for his employment. "Must have been, nice lad like you."

Pavel wants to roll his eyes and it's not entirely out of character so he does. "No one to kiss me," he says with a shrug.

"Oh come on, you're not serious," Scotty protests. "Plenty of girls would want to get their hands on those curls 'o yours. I've heard talk, boy," he says with a conspiratorial wink.

"No, is true," he says. Averting his eyes, he continues, "Don't mach like girls and sey don't mach like me."

Scotty hums in understanding. "I see. Boys, is it? Wee bit more difficult, that. Still, yer a nice lad. Should be plenty of boys to kiss ye," he persists, ever positive.

Pavel gives Scotty a look then, it's two parts hopeful, one part scared. "Oh?"

"Yeah. Plenty," Scotty assures him. He is quite a bit closer than he was before and Pavel resists the urge to smile. It is really too easy sometimes. Instead, he parts his lips. The bottom lip quivers and he's looking at Scotty and Scotty is looking back. They both move at the same time.

"You going to make me moan your name?" he asks Scotty teasingly, but there is a little trepidation in his eyes, as there should be. Scotty grins at him before he kisses him.

"You bet your arse I will," he confirms. Pavel suspects all thoughts of minors are far, far from the man's mind.

Scotty is rough, he likes to dig his fingers deep into skin, likely deep enough to leave bruises. Pavel imagines he will have to devise some accident to be involved in to explain them. He tries to respond in kind but he's nowhere near as confident, of course, he is a virgin, isn't he. Scotty groans for him none the less and bites down on his shoulder.

"Don't be scared, ye won't hurt me," Scotty tells him and he tries, really, but he doesn't entirely let go.

Scotty being Scotty has some sort of oil on him. He swears it's harmless. "Don't you worry about anything, I am going to make ye feel so good," he says. Pavel believes him, so far he's been feeling very good already.

Scotty is not suave, he's raw and emotional, a little barbaric. Pavel decides he likes it. He likes it a lot.

They are on the floor with their clothing somewhere nearby. Scotty is sitting on his heels and Pavel is on his lap with his legs on either side of Scotty's thighs, facing away. An oil-slick hand is on his cock, steady and sure, teeth are mapping out his back and he throws his head back and moans Scotty's name. Montgomery. Not Scott, not Scotty—Mont-go-_aah_-me-r_aaaayah_.

"So very lovely," Scotty says and Pavel doesn't answer him in words but moans instead to convey his appreciation.

As well as the hand on his cock there are fingers probing his ass and he moves to accommodate this. Scotty doesn't offer sugary reassurances except for an 'all right?' and 'you like that?' here and there. Pavel doesn't mind, he would probably say yes if he were asked if he was the striped singing penguin.

He is practically lifted onto Scotty's cock, the man is much, much stronger than he looks. Before it's completely inside him however, he turns to look over his shoulder at Scotty.

"Plis be gentle," he breathes, "it is my first cock."

Scotty laughs at this but nods. "Aye, I'll try lad, I'll try," he says, followed by a loud 'fuck!' when he impales Pavel on his cock. He does try, Pavel can tell, he's just not very good at being gentle. It's not a bad thing, oh, no, not at all. He makes quite a few noises and Scotty says many things which Pavel doesn't catch because of the brogue.

He is pushed forward and he uses his arms to support himself while Scotty latches on to his hips. "You all right?" he's asked and he responds loudly that, yes, he's fine, more please. Scotty just chuckles at him and gives him exactly what he asked for. Pavel's never come without someone touching his cock before, but he thinks he just might this time. He finds he's right about that, his orgasm is followed by a full-body shudder that goes on for a while after and when Scotty comes, he does it again. They collapse then, breathing hard but grinning like lunatics none the less.

"I told you so," Scotty informs him and he laughs, nodding that yes, he had told him. "Was it worth it?"

He has to say yes, it was very much worth it. Scotty seems pleased with that and he pulls Pavel into a sweaty embrace. They don't stay like that for a long time because they are on the floor after all and that's not the most comfortable place to be. Pavel momentarily wonders if he'll ever lose his virginity in a bed. He says goodbye to Scotty to find just that, a bed, and leaves engineering feeling quite pleased with himself.

On the way to his quarters he passes several people and he greets them cheerfully as always. Ensign Chekov is just that kind of guy.

"Keptin, Commander," he greets them briefly, inclining his head respectfully.

"A little late, isn't it?" the captain says, and Chekov smiles.

"Yes sir, I was just going to bed, sir."

He smiles a little at Spock before walking on. Yes, it is a good day.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

It wasn't supposed to be dangerous, and it really hadn't been. In the end everyone had to agree it came down to plain bad luck, nothing more. The planet had a suitable atmosphere and was unpopulated, it was just simple reconnaissance. The terrain was rocky and at times a bit rough. The ensign had simply put his foot down wrong, they had agreed.

Still, whatever the cause he was now a mess of bruises and abrasions and to be honest, a little pouty. He hadn't meant to fall quite like that but he had and there was nothing to be done about it except for sit in sickbay and be treated. The chief medical officer is scanning him with a frown on his face. Pavel is sure the man has many words for him, few of them complimentary.

He had chased out the rest of the away team earlier, telling them all to find entertainment somewhere and to get out of his damn face while he was trying to make sure the ensign was fine, damn it. It had been something like that.

"Well, you're pretty damn colourful but no signs of anything serious. You were lucky you didn't smash your head on a rock. Smashed everything else on a rock, but your head's fine," McCoy informs him brusquely.

"Yes doctor," he says demurely. He follows McCoy with his eyes as the man moves around sickbay. The doctor does everything with a kind of energy which made his movements more jerky than graceful. He is interesting to watch, Pavel thinks.

"You can put your shirt back on," McCoy says, gesturing in the direction of the garment. When he sees Pavel hesitating, he gives him a questioning glance. Pavel looks down at his hands. His fingers are tapping nervously on his thighs. He looks back at McCoy.

Doctors have very good observational skills he thinks when he sees McCoy's face change from questioning to understanding. He rather wishes it didn't settle on amused. He pouts then, looking every bit his age, and stubbornly stares the doctor down.

McCoy laughs softly, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Kid, you're in sickbay. You can't tell me you're that desperate."

"Not desperate," Pavel argues. "Sickbay is where you find doctor. Accident of locashon."

He smiles like he's very pleased with his wit and McCoy laughs at him, but it's a merry laugh and not a mocking one so he's still in business. The doctor leans against some equipment and crosses his arms. Pavel thinks he might be trying to look stern but it's not really working. He looks very nice instead, gruff and commanding, but amused. He reminds Pavel of home.

He knows doctors have moral complications when it comes to patients, but he likes to think McCoy is different. He is different from just about every doctor Pavel has ever met.

"You are in no condition for it," McCoy says, his firm voice suggesting he's not willing to accept arguments. Pavel disagrees.

"No signs of anysing serious," he reminds the doctor and stands up. "I'm fine," he repeats petulantly. He gives the doctor another pout. It seemed to be his best weapon against the man.

"Do you even have an idea what you're asking?" McCoy says more than asks but Pavel can tell he's cracking. His resolve wasn't very firm to begin with. While the doctor might be a very good doctor, he is not a very moral man. Pavel smiles impishly at him.

"In theory."

At that McCoy's hand goes back to massaging the bridge of his nose, only he is now muttering as well.

"In theory, he says. Accident of location, he says. You've got to be kidding me," he mutters. He pins Pavel down with a look and gestures grandly with his arm. "Theory or no theory, you are in sickbay and the only thing that will be happening here, theoretically or practically, is the treating of patients," McCoy says. "And that is final."

Pavel pouts at him, but he can't keep it up in the face of the doctor's stern expression. It turns into a grin instead. "You have office, yes?" he says mischievously. He is not giving up on this—if he does he's certain he'll never get the chance again. If he let them stop to think about it, it would never work, so he doesn't stop to let them think about it.

"Kid, you are really something else," McCoy says, and it is playful so yes, he has him. Pavel skips over to him and sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, nibbling on it, before smiling. "Theory, you said," McCoy questions, and he is pondering something which is not good, not good at all, so Pavel does it again. Doctors, he reminds himself, have very good observational skills.

"I read much," he mentions and he is pushing McCoy towards the door. The doctor is cooperating, he doubts he would be able to move him so easily if he weren't. "Who better to teach san a doctor?" he tells him and it's bold but he is blushing so there is a balance. He is very good at balance.

They stumble into the office and McCoy locks it—check.

"An examination?" Pavel quips, making McCoy snigger—mate.

"Oh yes kid, a thorough examination. On the table with you."

When he leaves he feels every last one of his contusions and abrasions even better than before, but he has a lazy grin on his face. Sacrifices have to be made, that is a rule of balance and he is, as mentioned, very good at it. He retrieves his shirt from sickbay without running into any nurses, which is fortunate, but he runs in to the captain on his way out, which is not. If there is one man who can tell 'properly fucked' from a mile away, it's the captain. Pavel represses his happy, sated feelings, and drags up cheerful Ensign Chekov.

"Good to see you're doing well," the captain says. He is looking at him in a way Pavel doesn't like in the least but he nods energetically and smiles widely.

"Yes sir, sank you sir."

He imagines he hears a slow applause when he is a ways down the corridor but dismisses it as his imagination. He has to go to his quarters, and then likely make a stop at engineering before going to the bridge. Everyone needed to know he was perfectly all right otherwise they would be knocking on his door all evening.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

He has the Gamma shift on the bridge. It is his least favourite shift but usually he has someone to share it with. This time he is alone.

Regulations are pointless against Captain Kirk so he didn't bother to complain when he saw the roster. He hadn't mentioned it to Spock because the Vulcan would look at it, say 'curious' and leave it at that. Spock was often of the 'and so it was written thus so it shall be' mentality, a side of him Pavel loves a little less than the rest of him.

Likely it was a fluke, a programming hiccup and wouldn't happen again. He resigns himself to watching the stars and letting his mind wander.

He is doing precisely that when the doors slide open to reveal the captain. He is out of uniform and reading something while eating some round fruit or another—Pavel is never sure with alien foods. The captain glances at him and says 'at ease, ensign' before sprawling into his chair.

He's surprised to say the least, the captain has the next Alpha shift which makes his presence a bit odd. It is irregular, but Captain Kirk is known for being irregular so Pavel turns back to his stars and dreams, albeit carefully He's doing both a navigator's and a pilot's job at the same time which despite his intellect requires quite some focus. Only, he can't concentrate at all. He has the distinct feeling he is being watched, but every time he glances at the captain the man is reading and munching on his supposed fruit. Other than him there's no one around and Pavel forces himself to calm down.

The captain doesn't say anything but he is by no means quiet. He keeps shifting, chewing—the man can't even breathe quietly. It is because of this that Pavel doesn't jump out of his chair when the captain snorts.

"Oh god, what is this drivel. 'Please be gentle', oh you gotta be kidding me," he says and sniggers at the PADD.

Pavel bristles a bit at that, feeling strangely insulted. It doesn't take long for the indignation to make place for unease. He looks at the captain who is no longer eating or reading. Instead he is sitting in a way that could only be described as provocative.

"You disagree, ensign?" he says, and Pavel hears the challenge. He wants to be anywhere but here, anywhere at all. Even in space, but if wishes were fishes, they'd be piloting a submarine. He doesn't say anything, he doesn't need to.

It's obvious the captain knows. How that happened Pavel can't say for sure, but he would be a fool to assume otherwise.

Kirk grins, spreading himself out all over the chair. "I admit, it's very effective. But zero points for creativity sweetheart."

"You want creativity?" Pavel says incredulously.

Is that what this is about? Sometimes the captain really made no sense, but Pavel is willing to go along with anything right now. That man could bring his whole world down around his ears if he so chose and Pavel isn't quite ready for that.

"Naw, I don't want creativity," Kirk says, shaking his head. "What I want is simple," he continues. He pauses to give Pavel an intense look, one which makes it hard to swallow. "I would like to fuck a virgin."

Pavel is very close to laughing hysterically. He was ready to bolt at any opportunity and here the captain only wants his ass. He stands up, lightly tugging at the collar of his own shirt. "I ken do sat."

"Naw," Kirk says again. "But you can help me with this other thing I want."

Now he is confused. His hand drops to his sides and he watches the captain fiddle with the sleeves of his black shirt, waiting for the man to continue. He is about ready to expire on the spot. "What?" he exclaims eventually. Captain Kirk is ruining his balance he thought, and pinned the man with an accusing stare.

"I'd love to fuck a slut," Kirk tells him and pats his lap.

Pavel knows an invitation when he sees one. He is out of his shirt before Kirk can even blink and he practically throws himself at the man. There is something to be said for experience, as Pavel well knows. Kirk catches him easily and without further ado proceeds to suck his soul out through his mouth. His hands are on Pavel's ass and he squeezes, pulling him even closer.

"Fuck yes, like that. Much, much better like that," Kirk says. His mouth will be sore but he doesn't care, doesn't care at all because he can kiss like he means it and be kissed back, bitten and sucked just how he likes it without reserve. "You," Kirk says between kisses, "are going, to suck my dick," he informs him.

"Yes," is all Pavel says, and all he needs to. He is on his knees in an instant, fingers unfastening the captain's pants knowingly, with practised ease. He utters another yes when he frees the captain's cock and he is gagging for it, he is, because he is free to do so.

"Oh hell yes," Kirk groans when Pavel latches on to his cock. Hands bury themselves into hair, those curls that girls like and apparently boys also. The captain knows what he likes and isn't bashful about it, he forces Pavel's head down and pulls him back up, sets the pace he likes, demands his balls fondled, his thighs squeezed and _a little teeth yeah just like that_. He yanks him up so he can kiss him—more like devour him—and Pavel loves it because _yes, just like that_, and then forces him back down to pay more attention to his cock.

"Needy little thing, oh yes, ah, faster," the captain says and yes, it's all true, it is and if he'd only known then perhaps he would have gone about it differently. It's too late now, not that he can really think about it while the captain is fucking his mouth. That is what's happening, he isn't sucking Kirk off, Kirk is fucking his mouth. No—Jim, _James_.

"Yeah, enough, get up."

Pavel scrambles to his feet and Kirk pulls his pants down without so much as by your leave. He is hard, very hard, and when the captain sees it he chuckles.

"Oh yeah, I am gonna make you come without even touching you. Get out of those pants, come on now," he tells him, making little hurry-up gestures with his hand. "Perfect. Now come here and ride me. In this chair. On the bridge." His voice is low and such a turn on Pavel can hardly contain himself. He straddles him, legs wedged between Jim's and the chair, the captain's chair, the same captain who is right at that second pushing spit-slicked fingers up his ass like he owns it and it's his due.

"I'd take the time to prep you better, but I doubt it matters any more," Kirk says and Pavel agrees, he is stretched enough and besides that would take time, time he could spend on that glorious cock. He guides it himself as the captain's hands are otherwise occupied, pinching nipples and squeezing hips, but as soon as he pushes the first inch in the captain thrusts upwards and Pavel screams.

"Say it," Kirk growls. "Say it."

Pavel needs to think about that one a little but it comes to him. "Plis, sir," he pants, "be gentle."

"No fucking way," the captain hisses, and he could _cry_ he is so happy to hear that. He thinks he might split in half but it would be worth it, _is _worth it.

The reputation surrounding James T. Kirk is well deserved. The man knows exactly how to move to make him scream and plead for more and then some without hesitation. He does, and gets exactly what he asks for plus all the side benefits one could dream of.

When he had said he wanted to fuck a slut he hadn't been kidding, Pavel thinks, he's being used and he knows it. He knows it and loves it.

"_Nnngh_, what I wouldn't give for some touch telepathy right now," Jim mutters between grunts, and Pavel doesn't take note. He hardly knows his own name, hardly knows anything other than that cock and those hands.

When Pavel comes, he cries out '_Captain_' to the great amusement of the man in question, because Jim comes laughing. He holds on to Pavel until the shuddering stops and afterwards he pets his hair and nuzzles his neck. He even helps him stand.

"I am not supposed to be here, so I guess I should get going before I'm caught. You, breathe," Kirk says through a smile and Pavel giggles.

"Yes, sir."

Kirk winks at him. "At ease, ensign." He zips himself up on his way to the turbolift, whistling as he saunters. He pauses. "You know, I might have to get my hands on the security vid. Some things should be preserved for posterity."

The door opens revealing several faces and the only reason Pavel doesn't think '_oh shit_' is because he doesn't think anything. He squeaks instead.

The captain waits for them to get out of the lift and puts a hand on Spock's shoulder to stop him as he passes. They share a look Pavel can't exactly decipher, but God damn him, that's the least of his problems.

"Glower at him a little guys," the captain says pleasantly before disappearing into the lift.

When Pavel can think again, he mainly thinks the captain should have been first.


End file.
